


Give Into the Symptoms

by darling_pet



Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Accidents, Aphrodisiacs, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, Chemicals, Confusion, Erections, F/M, Hallucinations, Horniness, One Shot, Quarantine, Reader-Insert, Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23440408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darling_pet/pseuds/darling_pet
Summary: When an unknown substance is accidentally released into the medbay, you find yourself isolated along with Doctor Wells, and both of you start to develop some very interesting symptoms…
Relationships: Eobard Thawne & Reader, Eobard Thawne & You, Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells & Reader, Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells & You, Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells/Reader, Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells/You, Eobard Thawne/Reader, Eobard Thawne/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	Give Into the Symptoms

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came from a tumblr request :)

Team Flash likes to joke that being accident-prone is your superpower. Little did they know, one accident in particular would catapult you into a world of suspicion and realization…

It’s one of those days - a day in between just having caught the latest meta terrorizing the city and having another one pop up. You have forgotten your travel mug, and are searching the Labs for it. _Oh, right!_

You remember setting it down while visiting Caitlin in the medbay, then got distracted. There it is. You jog into the room, but remember that’s probably not a good idea. What if you trip on absolutely nothing and fall flat on your face? Not if you can help it.

But that doesn’t seem to help you.

When you reach for your mug on the desk, it’s like everything happens in slow motion (later, you find yourself wondering if this is how it feels for Barry) - your arm knocks over a series of test tubes holding different coloured liquids. Some of the substance splashes onto your skin, whereas the rest of the matter falls to the ground. It gives off a pungent aroma. You can practically see the fumes rising from the desk and the floor up into the air. In the shock of the accident, you let out a yell, and find that whatever the hell chemicals just touched your skin feels like it’s burning.

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” comes the familiar voice of your superior (and friend? You’re fairly certain you’re friends… You _hope_ you’re friends…) Doctor Harrison Wells. The scientist zooms in on his motorized chair at the fastest speed it will carry him. “What’s happened?”

His voice is a mixture of surprise, concern and impending protocol.

“Ow, ow, I knocked over chemicals on the desk, ah!” you try to explain while shaking your affected limb. “Some on my arm.”

You shout in wild staccatos while Doctor Wells helps usher you to the emergency wash station to ease the moderately uncomfortable sensation. Even after the cold water sprays on your skin, it’s Harrison’s next few words that shock you even more than the water temperature or the burn.

“You need to remove your shirt. Quickly.”

“I- what?”

Doctor Wells wheels over to one of the cabinets in the room and plucks one of the many overly stocked S.T.A.R. Labs sweaters to toss it at you.

“There will still be remnants of the concoction on your shirt. It will continue to soak through the fabric and reach the rest of your body. It cannot be touching you. Hurry. Unless you want to try to bathe in that sink.”

You have your shirt off faster than you could say “the Flash.”

You remove your shirt so fast, in fact, that Doctor Wells hasn’t even had time yet to turn away or avert his eyes. Instead, he witnesses the entire thing.

“Oh, well…” he utters, possibly embarrassed, turning around too late. His eyes one hundred percent saw you in your bra. And now you will let that tiny factoid harass you for the rest of your life. You shrug on the classic navy sweater with the organization’s logo stretched across your chest. It is not your size, but it will have to do.

“Alright, I’m decent,” you say to the back of his dark-haired head. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat after he faces you again, but you can’t decipher its meaning. But that is the case with many things when it comes to this man.

“We have to self-isolate ourselves.” Harrison’s voice is calm but firmly urgent. “We’ve both been in contact with each other and the substance. Quick, initiate lockdown.” You know just what to do and sprint to the door to the room. You smash the emergency glass and press the Big Red Button. Instantly, metal barriers drop down to seal the doors and windows, locking you in with the secret object of your affections and an unknown substance.

Only time will tell what will happen to the two of you next.

***

Nothing.

Nothing has happened! God, you are so _bored_.

“How long are we supposed to be stuck in here?” you ask.

“So far, it’s uncertain. This is an unknown substance. But we must stay isolated so as not to pass along the contagion. We both came in contact with the substance particles, so we may eventually show symptoms.” Harrison hums.

“What?” you ask.

“This unforeseen circumstance may be worth taking notes. For posterity. Do you have a pen?”

Naturally, Harrison would find a way to take this unfortunate situation and turn it into a learning experience.

_Always a scientist._

Maybe that’s why you admire him so much. Well, more than just _admire_ …

At first, time passes incredibly slowly. You don’t know what to say in the awkward silence between you and Doctor Wells, so you try to keep yourself busy. This proves extremely difficult, however. All there is in this room are Caitlin’s medical journals, test tubes and various other tools, and a medical bed. Yes, there is a computer, but it was set up solely for data entry. No internet. Not even so much as Solitaire!

And the metal barriers seem to have blocked out all signals to your phone.

Even Doctor Wells’ chess set was out in the other room!

This is hopeless.

You hop up on the medical bed and recline a bit. You’re starting to feel a little strange, but you can’t figure out what exactly is wrong with you. Is this one of the symptoms, or have you finally gone mad from being cooped up? You start to mentally examine yourself.

Your skin tingles, but in a good way - not like how it burned earlier. Your entire body feels comfortably warm, and you find that when your eyes fall on Doctor Wells, that’s when you start to feel hotter.

The man sits in the corner of the room, studying one of the journals. Every so often, he’ll lick his finger and turn the page…

You swallow hard, now wholly distracted by his lips. They’re so pink it should be a crime. But the real outrage is the curves of his arms. At first, you were going to ask whether he wears such muscle-defining sweaters like this all the time, but really you know the answer to that is yes. Your eyes take you on a vicious cycle of drinking him in, admiring every piece of perfection that is Harrison Wells.

“Miss (Y/L/N)? Are you feeling alright?” he shakes you from your ogling.

“Huh, what? I think so…”

“Are you developing any symptoms?”

_Is horniness one of them?_

“I’m not sure.”

“Write down what you’re feeling, anyway,” he suggests. “It could be helpful.”

You do so, taking the pen and paper you’d found earlier and jot down what you’d been feeling. You’re noticing a bit of lightheadedness too, so you add that to the list. But you hear something mid-scrawl.

“Did you know that you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on?”’

You lift your head. _Did he just…?_

“I’m sorry, w-what?” you stutter. Doctor Wells removes his glasses in one motion, letting one of its arms touch his lips, which bend up into a smirk. He wheels over to you in the bed, the closer he gets, the hotter and unsteadier you become. Your vision seems altered - rosier than usual.

“I believe you heard me correctly,” he answers, “and I mean it. You make me want to…”

“Want to what?” If you don’t settle yourself down now, you’re going to jump the man.

“It isn’t proper what I want to say.”

 _Oh,_ now _he’s holding back?_

Fuck it. You _need_ to _know_. You slide your legs off the bed and, without much further thought, kneel between his widespread legs on his chair. Your hands gripping the armrests instead of literally anywhere on the man himself like you would prefer. Leaning in close, so much so that you share the same dangerous breath.

“I need you to tell me,” you beg.

Doctor Wells just blinks at you, then frowns.

Wait. Something’s not right here.

You pull back and examine the situation, and then the scariest words come from his mouth:

“Miss (Y/L/N)? What are you doing?”

You try your damndest not to scream. Did you just hallucinate all that? _Oh God, I imagined him coming on to me, didn’t I??_

Jumping back far away from him, you turn around to hold your head in your hands. Is this all one big fever dream? Is this a symptom? What’s real? What’s not? You sure as hell don’t know anymore. All you do know is that you’re hot and bothered and almost mauled your boss because of it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” you say. “I’m just…” You’re completely frazzled. “I’m just going to write it down.”

_New symptom: horny hallucinations_

You try to let the next half an hour pass without feeling this strange woozy sensation. In doing so, you close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing while lying down. But it’s still too hot. _You’re_ still too hot. You remove the sweater, entirely forgetting that you aren’t alone in this room. Doctor Wells has been quiet for far too long. And it would appear he’s been watching you. His elbow rests on his chair, hand covering his mouth as his eyes rake over your body. You look down to his lap, an accident.

_Good Lord, he’s got…_

The curve of him is all too apparent in his pants. The way he’s sitting only draws attention to _it_. It’s like you have instantaneous tunnel vision. His growing self is all you see and all you care about. You go to him, no longer wondering or caring if this is all an illusion, it’s not even a thought in your brain. All that remains is this unrestrainable animal lust for his body. Consequences be damned. You kneel in front of him.

“(Y/N)…” he exhales. He doesn’t sound stunned or taken aback by your extreme forwardness. Instead, it sounds like a warning.

“Suddenly not so formal, hm?” you say. “Good, because we’re about to get better acquainted anyway, _Harrison_.” Doctor Wells doesn’t make any motion for you to stop your advancements, just stares lustful daggers at you while you practically claw at the man’s buckle and zipper. You reach into his pants to wrap your hand around the single thing in this room that you believe can heal you. His sheer hardness is unveiled and in your firm grasp. Doctor Wells’ groan shifts into a growl. _Well, hello_. His brow furrows but in the sexiest goddamn way.

Heavens above, you’re desperate to taste this man, eat him, swallow him, consume him.

_New symptom: salivation_

Your tongue darts out for a slow lick. But the slowness doesn’t last because the need is greater than anything you’ve felt. Soon, you surround your lips around his cock and take him further in your mouth. Further, letting the underside of him brush against your flattened tongue. On your way back down, you swirl around him, which makes your colleague, your _employer_ reach a hand into your hair. He grips a handful at the base of your head. _Harder. Pull it harder._

Doctor Wells does just that, and perhaps you did say out loud that after all? You aren’t sure of anything anymore other than you feel on fire, and you need more. Your blood hurtles through your veins. A ceaseless throb makes itself known between your legs. More so than before, that is.

Going in for the kill, you return your mouth to him, meanwhile reaching your own hand past the waistband of your jeans to touch yourself. You need to get off just as much as you want him to. You feel like you’ll keel over if you don’t deal with yourself too.

Harrison’s bobbing head stops to stare down at you.

“Are you-? Fuck, (Y/N), are you-?”

You hum around him in affirmation, and just after you do, the scientist pushes you off of him. In any other situation, you might be mortified that a man told you to stop blowing him, but this is no ordinary situation. Your vision blurs for a second in a surge of lust. You’re like an animal that’s just been denied their meal. There’s so much more to eat.

You stand up, chest heaving, and positively do not believe what you witness next.

Doctor Wells’ hands clutch the chair’s armrests again, but then you watch as he moves his foot. He takes a step onto the floor, then stands to a full six feet. It’s a fucking miracle- no. It truly is a hallucination. A dream. It’s a fantasy.

There’s a flash of danger in his eyes, while yours widen, big and round as his prey. The tables have turned. He’s stalking you, walking you back until you hit the metal barrier where the door once was. Captured.

_This hallucination is fucking wild and I am here for it._

Might as well give in to the symptoms, right?

Harrison leans down by your ear and inhales your scent. Sweat, desire, desperation.

“I can’t resist you,” he says as if it’s difficult to even speak through the palpable sexual tension.

“I’d always imagined you saying that,” you confess, because why not? This isn’t real anyway. “I can’t resist you either.”

“I’m aware,” he chuckles into your neck, where his mouth quickly attaches. You swallow twice. “You seemed rather hungry back there.” Your pulse is starting to skyrocket again.

“Still am.” Your fingers find the hem of his soft black sweater and begin to lift it up over him. Might as well indulge in this glorious sex dream. Harrison helps you of course. He seems to want this as much as you. You’re both a series of grabbing hands, flexing muscles, and greedy touches as each and every article of clothing finds its rightful place on the floor.

Fucking hell, sex-fantasy Doctor Wells looks like an actual _god_. Part of your brain wonders how much of his usually-covered appearance is accurate. The rest of your brain (and another part in particular) thinks, _Get in me_.

The look on his face says it all. He’s going to ravage you.

Harrison, faster than you could ever imagine, spins you so that your exposed breasts press against the metal barrier. Your palms rest flat against the cool metal as well, bracing yourself for whatever the man has planned. Whatever it is, you want it. _Now_.

His hands run down your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake despite your entire body feeling hot as all hell. He steps closer, so close that his whole body presses against the back of yours. His still hard cock digs into you from behind. You reach around and take hold of it and start to pump. The scientist rumbles into your neck, where he licks and nips and sucks and _fuck_ \- bites. You squeal. By the way his body twitches, you think he rather enjoyed hearing you like that.

If you weren’t already a mess, Harrison’s fingers take over the job you tried to accomplish on yourself earlier. His fingers are greeted by your already sopping desire.

“You really were serious, weren’t you?” he says at the slippery feel of you. “Do I always arouse you like this?”

“God, you don’t even know.” It comes out a bit strangled. “All the time.”

“Are you ready for me?”

“Do you seriously need to ask?”

He doesn’t answer you, but instead takes his length to press it against you from behind. _Finallyfinallyfinally_. A little more. Just a bit more. More. Further in. With each inch, you whine for all of him. Doctor Wells growls into your shoulder once he’s reached as far as he’s able to sheath himself inside you.

It’s only when he starts a steady pace of thrusts that you almost believe this is all real. The feeling in your gut tells you it’s real, but the rest of you insists it’s a very _very_ heated symptom. His mouth is still attacking your neck, any bit of skin he can get to. The current mark he’s leaving is starting to hurt but in the best way.

“Fuck,” you swear, knowing your climax is just on the horizon. You’re nearly there. “Faster. Faster,” you ask of him with what little ability you have to form words. Doctor Wells chuckles, almost evilly, into your ear.

“That I can do,” he replies. His hips snap repeatedly, a deliciously rapid speed. Skin against skin slaps to quick beat. His fingers circle at the same pace. And with a surprise, sharp smack to your ass, this wicked combination is your undoing.

You come apart like a crumbling mess, crying out as you do as the man repeatedly slams into you, now seemingly for his own gain. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, an orgasm this powerful, is it even possible to have one this…

***

You blink your eyes open.

You’re still in the medbay, but the barriers on the door and windows have been lifted. And you’re definitely still clothed in your S.T.A.R. Labs sweater and jeans. _So it was all a crazy dream?_

Regardless, you’re _never_ going to be able to look Doctor Wells in the eye _ever_ again.

Speaking of the man…

He rolls in on his chair with a pleasant and calm smile.

“Feeling alright, Miss (Y/L/N)?” he asks, concerned. “You took quite a spill earlier.”

“I did?”

“Yes.”

You don’t remember falling. You remember a whole lot of an X-rated fantasy, though.

“I didn’t, um…” you aren’t sure how to phrase this. “I didn’t do anything embarrassing or potentially fireable, did I?”

Doctor Wells raises an eyebrow in one of his classic moves. “I don’t believe so. Other than the falling, of course. But you needn’t feel embarrassed about that. It could have happened to anyone.”

You nod slowly, relieved that you didn’t blow your boss under the influence and proceed to fuck against a wall. Although… no. No. You _are_ relieved. Yes.

“I see the barriers are up,” you note. “I take it that isolation is no longer required?”

“You would be correct,” Harrison confirms. “Doctor Snow rushed in, with the appropriate hazmat gear and did some tests. You were out long enough for the results to come back. We’re in the clear.”

“Well, that’s good news.”

“Quite.” Harrison smiles at you, but there’s something different this time than previously. You aren’t sure what it is. “I will leave you now. Feel free to take a few days off. I know that was probably a lot to take in.”

“Right. Yes, right, thank you, I will.”

“Take care, (Y/N).” Harrison wheels away out of the room and out to the corridor. You take a breath and step out of the bed, feeling a bit uncomfortable as you walk. And then, in the reflection of one of the mirrors on Caitlin’s work desk, you see it.

A deep-purple mark on your neck.

When you press your fingers to it, it hurts a bit. It’s fresh. But how can that be…?

Can that-?

Did he really-?

But then that means…

_Oh shit._

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous Request: "Hey dear I want to request a EoWells story. Reader gets exposed to a VERY powerful aphrodisiac at star labs and the reader asks harrison to help her. And he gets exposed to it too. And both go totally crazy and do shameless dirty stuff to each other and together (maybe they always had feelings for each other). And Harrison reveals his secret( that’s he’s not paralyzed) to get more and more from her. Lots of smut! Plus add whatever you like. can you plz?"


End file.
